


Surveillant

by TaergaLive



Series: Baldur's Gate 3 one-shots [15]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:01:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29470593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaergaLive/pseuds/TaergaLive
Summary: "'So, spying on your sister and Astarion again?''What? What makes you think…?''Well, they disappeared into the woods, and then you did minutes later. I would have accepted maybe taking a leak, but up in a tree...well, that makes you rather suspicious.'"Wyll and Glyn bond over their hero complexes, as well as other things
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), Wyll (Baldur's Gate)/ Original Male Character
Series: Baldur's Gate 3 one-shots [15]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061618
Comments: 7
Kudos: 20





	Surveillant

**Author's Note:**

> Wyll, darling, I'm sorry. I completely butchered your character. 
> 
> This took forever as I tried to get a feel for Wyll's voice. I haven't quite got it yet. And then my internet decided to be a butt, and I do all my writing on googledocs, so...yeah. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks to the lovely people on this discord server (https://discord.gg/VHhptAhj) for their support and help, especially with the fairy tale Wyll tells in this story. If you're interested in BG 3, you should join!

"Sorry to bother you at such an hour, Master Roleth," a man at the door wheezed. "But we were told to find you immediately."

Adric Roleth stood dumbly at the door, blinking at the two men waiting outside. Despite the late hour, he was still fully dressed, a candle in his hand. For a moment, he gave them quizzical looks, but a glance to the sky revealed the time of day, or night rather. 

Sliding his glasses onto his head, Adric shakes his head."Oh no, no trouble at all. What seems to be the problem?"

The second man gestured to the young child in his arms. "Some traveling merchants found this little one wandering the woods. She had this ring with her, so they figured she needed to get to you." 

The first man produced the ring, a gold band with an emerald. Adric recognized it instantly, not needing to see the inscription inside which read "With love, Adric Roleth." Instead, he tilted the candle toward the small child, illuminating her sleeping form. The pallor of her face was besmirched with dirt and mud. But even through that, he could see her features, familiar features that made his heart sink.

Lyra.

With a nod, he placed the candle on a table by the door before scooping the child up. "Thank you, gentlemen," he said, quietly so as to not disturb the sleeping girl, though she seemed too weak to hear a thing. He noted just how light she felt in his arms. "Indeed you have brought her to the right place. If you come inside, I shall justly reward you."

But the men shook their heads. "No, sir, we are but doing our duty. I hope she'll be okay."

After shutting the door behind him, Adric carried the girl down the dimly lit hallway. From the end of the hall, a voice called out. "Dad? What's going on?"

"Glyn, my boy," Adric chimed, "Help your old man, yes? Get some water and blankets together."

"Who is that?" 

Adric stopped for a moment, studying the little girl before turning to his son. 

"Your little sister."

______________

As the branch snaps and clicks, Glynren holds his breath, staying as still as he can while bracing himself for the possible fall. Moments pass, and he sighs with relief as the branch holds his weight. As aptly as he can, he reaches for the branch above him, shifting his weight before swinging his leg over it. What he’s doing is wrong. He knows that. He admits it to himself. But his mind cannot rest knowing his sister is alone with that beast, a beast that toys with her, a beast that knows his secret. 

He’s doing it to protect her, he insists. He’ll just keep an eye on them to make sure Astarion doesn’t pull a knife on her. Or his teeth. Or maybe even his dick. Glynren shudders, pushing the thought out of his mind. The idea of his sweet little sister lying with that monster - No, he’s not going to think about it. 

“Out of all of them you could have fucked, you picked the deadly vampire?” he mutters to himself as he climbs higher. “Hells, even Gale’s a beaut. You could have had him!” Glyn feels his face heat up. It’s not like he was checking his companions out or anything. It’s just difficult not to notice. Especially when around 

“What are you doing up there?”

Glyn freezes in place, holding onto the branch above him. Maybe if he stays perfectly still, Wyll won’t notice him? Ah, no, that won’t work. He’s already been spotted. Glancing down, he sees the Blade of Frontiers standing at the base of the tree, staring back up at Glyn. 

“Oh, hey there!” Glyn smiles nervously. As he starts to let go of the branch, he hears the branch he’s standing on snap. Again, he freezes. Maybe if he stands perfectly still…?

Nope! Another snap. And crack. And down comes the branch, tumbling to the ground. Luckily, Glyn gripped the branch above him, so he didn’t fall, and luckily Wyll stepped out of the way in time. The hero smiles at the elf dangling in the tree, shaking his head. 

“How are you going to get down now?” Wyll asks, eager to hear the answer.

Glyn, meanwhile, is straining to hold himself up. “Um…” he grunts. “I’m not sure.” 

With a chuckle, Wyll moves to line up under Glyn. “You need not fear,” he says with a dramatic flair. “Just drop, and The Blade of Frontiers shall catch you.” 

Fall into Wyll’s arms? Glyn does not need to be told twice. Instantly, he lets go of the branch, bracing himself for the landing. True to his word, Wyll makes the catch, though it’s not as smooth and gentle as in the stories. Glyn almost knocks the man to his knees. 

Once he regains his composure, Wyll chuckles. “I didn’t realize it was elf-picking season.” 

“We’re a year-round sort of variety,” Glynren replies, enjoying the moment or two in his arms before Wyll sets him down. Short lived, but so sweet. 

Dusting himself off, Wyll casually gestures over his shoulder. “So, spying on your sister and Astarion again?”

Glynren does his best to feign confusion. “What? What makes you think…?”

“Well, they disappeared into the woods,” Wyll crosses his arms, shifting on his feet. “And then you did minutes later. I would have accepted maybe taking a leak, but up in a tree...well, that makes you rather suspicious.”

With a sheepish smile, Glynren looks away. “I...okay, yes. I was trying to see what they were up to. To make sure he wasn’t-”

“Doing anything to harm her,” Wyll smiles, but his eyes give away his disapproval. “You realize you have to let her go, right? That you can’t keep doing this?”

Leaning against the tree, the elf sighs. “You and Gale keep saying that, but…but if she’s doing something that can harm her, shouldn’t I help her? If she were heading toward a cliff, am I supposed to just let her keep walking toward it? No, I would be a monster if I did that. So why am I a monster now for trying to keep her safe?”

Wyll studies him for a moment. “No one’s saying you’re a monster, Glyn.” He slings an arm around Glynren’s shoulders and starts leading the elf away. “You have good intentions, but you’re going about this the wrong way.”

There’s no fight from Glynren as he allows Wyll to lead them away from the lake. Though he’d like to keep an eye on his sister, all he can focus on now is the proximity the Blade is to himself. Should he be ashamed of himself for enjoying this moment? Probably. But he’s not. He’ll milk the moment for all it’s worth. 

Glancing at him, Wyll gives him a wry smile, and for a moment, Glynren wonders if Wyll heard his thoughts. Instead, the Blade of Frontiers asks, “Have you ever heard the story of the young faerie?” 

Glynren has heard  _ many _ stories over the years, most of them told by Sephrin. The girl loves to read, but she loves sharing what she learns even more. Yet Glynren shakes his head. “Can’t say that I have.”

Nodding, Wyll scratches his nose as he tries to recall the tale. “It’s about this little faerie. She’s just got her powers to grant wishes, and she’s eager to use them. She starts granting wishes to anyone who visits her, no strings attached. Soon, the people in the nearby village start coming to her for all of their problems.” He pauses and smiles. “I’m skipping around a bit. It’s a much longer story. An older faerie warns her not to grant every wish she hears, but the young faerie doesn’t listen.”

“Because she wants to help,” Glynren rolls his eyes with a smile. “I know where you’re trying to go with this.”

“Would you like to tell the story then?” Wyll cocks a brow. 

Laughing, Glynren holds his hands up. “No, no, please continue.” 

Giving him a little nudge, Wyll continues. “So she continues granting wishes. And soon, all the people stop doing their jobs, because they know the young faerie will just give them whatever they want. And she does until finally, all her magic runs out. By that time, the villagers don’t remember how to do things for themselves.”

Glynren sighs. “I get it. You’re saying if I keep insisting on helping Sephrin, she’s not going to be able to help herself. But-”

“There is no but!” Wyll laughs. “How did you get the moral of the story yet try to argue with it?”

“ _ But _ ,” Glynren repeats forcefully, “Like I said, if I don’t help her this one time-”

“It hasn’t been one time, mate,” Wyll gives him a pointed look. “It’s been every time, ever since she and Astarion started...whatever their relationship is. Every time they are together, you try to interfere. You compared it earlier to her walking toward a cliff. If your sister was walking toward a cliff, then yes, you should definitely interfere and help her. But this thing with Astarion, she’s not walking toward a cliff, not yet anyway. It’s more like she’s walking  _ near _ a cliff. You can be a good brother and warn her of the danger, but you shouldn’t be trying to drag her away.”

Another big sigh from Glynren. “I...I get what you’re saying. I really do. I just...think any second, he’s going to push her over.”

Wyll gives the elf a sad smile. “He might. But it’s not your job to be there to catch her. As I said, she knows the danger is there. She’s got to be the one who stays alert.” 

As they enter a little glen, Glynren grows quiet. He wants to argue more. Not arguing means admitting defeat, and he still deeply, truly believes he needs to keep that Vampire Spawn away from his sister. And yet he cannot think of an argument against Wyll. He starts a few in his head, but he can practically predict what the monster hunter’s counter argument would be. 

Much to Glynren’s dismay, Wyll lets go of Glynren and sits on an overturned tree. Glyn can still feel the warmth of his touch. Smiling, Wyll looks up at him. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Glyn knows there’s a deeper question not being asked. “It’s hard to explain. I spent a long part of my life being the youngest in my family, and then she came along. I’ve told you before the love for her did not come right away. But when it did...I don’t know, maybe it’s because she’s not like us, like the rest of my family. She just always seemed...fragile. Like a porcelain doll. It never took much to make her shatter.”

With a sheepish smile, Wyll scratches his cheek. “Aye, I might know a thing or two about that. I’ve been told many a time that I have a bit of a hero complex. After all, that’s...what drew me to make my deal with Mizora in the first place.”

Frowning, Glynren glances away. He knew Mizora was a sore subject for Wyll. While the elf was curious to know more about her and about Wyll’s powers, he was conscientious enough to not pry. But now that the warlock has brought the subject up, perhaps it would not be rude to ask? Glancing back at the man, Glynren decided to go a different route instead. 

“I never wanted to be a hero,” he says as he sits down next to Wyll. “Nothing so philanthropic. Like I said, Sephrin was the first person I felt that need to protect.”

“What did you want to be?” Wyll asks. 

Glynren bites the inside of his cheek. He both loves and hates the way Wyll studies him as they talk. “Not sure, to be honest. I just wanted to see the world. Now? I have no idea.”

Wyll pats Glynren’s shoulder. “I can understand that as well. There was a time when I had no intention of being the man I am today. Too much of a spoiled brat for that.”

The elf blinks. “A brat? You?”

With a slight bow, Wyll holds out his arms. “The Blade comes from noble stock, chief. Born in Baldur’s Gate; bred in the upper city. And a steadfast dagger in my father’s side.” 

Nobility? Wyll? Glynren almost flinches in shock. While not nobility himself, Glynren came from an upper-class family. He’s seen and even met some nobles in his time, though normally as just a quiet boy awkwardly standing by this father’s side. Wyll did not speak or act or even look the part of a noble. In fact, that was part of what attracted Glyren to him. Glynren doesn’t like stuffy clothes and politics. He likes exploring and getting his hands dirty. 

He tries to hide his skepticism. “Didn’t get along with your father?”

“Oh no,” Wyll laughs. “You got me all wrong. Hell, the man was my hero. He saw whatever shiny bauble he wanted and took it. And my fingers were every bit as sticky.”

Ah, a corrupt noble. That part isn’t so shocking to Glynren. “So you were a thief?”

Another sheepish smile from Wyll. “Aye, I was. The valiant Blade of the Frontiers was a spoiled, thieving nobleman. Then I went thieving in the wrong shadows, got myself into trouble. Father shipped me off to the Flaming Fist. Figured they’d teach me a few lessons.”

“Flaming Fist?”

“A mercenary camp,” Wyll explains, scooting off the log so he could sit on the ground and lean his back against the log. “Not quite the military, but practically as rough. Acted as city guard, in fact. A bit ironic, don’t you think, sending a thief to train under the city guard?” 

“Did you stay on as city guard?” Glynren figures it makes sense. A daring thief gets caught, gets sent to a military camp to learn from his mistakes, and ends up a protector rather than a menace. Perhaps he then found corruption within the force, and this led to him setting out to work alone, becoming the hero the world so desperately needed. 

At least, that’s what would have happened in those sappy books Sephrin likes to read.

Wyll stares off into the woods. “Not quite. They taught me some lessons, alright. Just...not the lessons they wanted me to learn.”

As the hero grows quiet, Glynren shifts. He has enough common sense to know the story is over. Though he’s grateful Wyll opened up to him, he’s miffed he doesn’t get to hear how the story ends. He knows he could press for more details, but he’s afraid he’ll chase the man off. And really, this just means he’ll have an excuse later down the road to talk to him again when Wyll feels safe and comfortable enough to share the rest.

Until then, Glynren will either have to content himself with the silence or desperately think of another topic to bring up so Wyll will keep talking to him. He should probably opt for the former, but he hates the silence. It unnerves him. Plus, he enjoys Wyll’s voice. Such a smooth, soothing voice, paired with a rough, scarred face.

A face he’s been awkwardly staring at for far too long. Wyll starts to give him a suspicious smile. “You alright there, chief?”

Oh gods, how do you tell a man you’re enchanted with him? It should be the same way as with a girl, right? How did he get into his relationship with Eilia? Oh right,  _ she _ approached  _ him _ . Okay, fine, how does he get this enchanting man to approach him? Hells, how did  _ Sephrin _ get Astarion to do it?!

_ “Did I hit below the belt?”  _ the words echo in his skull. “ _ As I mentioned earlier, you and your sister are much more alike than I originally realized. You get the same little blush on your cheeks when you’re embarrassed, that same dreamy look when you’re gazing at the one you admire. You’re jealous because she’s got her man while you’re still pining away like a little schoolboy.” _

Now he remembers the main reason he wanted to spy on his sister and Astarion that night. Yes, he wanted to keep her safe, but he had admitted to Seprhin that the Vampire had threatened him. Maybe “threatened” was too extreme of a word to use, but pinning him to a tree with an ax is a bit extreme in itself. Sephrin had promised to talk to Astarion about it, which Glynren assumes is what they’re little lakeside visit tonight is about. But he didn’t tell his sister the other part of the conversation he and Astarion had, how the Vampire somehow knew of Glynren’s feelings toward their heroic companion. He knew Astarion would just love to let that little secret spill, and while normally he wouldn’t care if his sister knew of his love life, but this time was different because 

“Glyn,” Wyll places a hand on Glynren’s knee. It’s an innocent enough gesture seeing as the man is sitting on the ground and Glynren is still seated on the log, but it still makes Glynren flinch in surprise. “You’re miles away, lad. What’s wrong?” Although the elf has about 80 or so years on the man, Glynren looks much younger than Wyll, and by elven standards, Glynren has really only just begun his adulthood while he knows Wyll has been living his for a while. Still, it felt weird for a human to treat him so young. For a moment, he wonders if that’s how Wyll views him, as just a “lad.”

“I’m, I’m fine,” Glynren finally responds, deflated. “Guess I just have a lot on my mind.” 

An awkward silence falls between them, or maybe it just feels awkward to Glyn. Just when he’s about to try to suggest returning to camp, Wyll scoots back up to sit on the log. “Well, I’m all ears, mate. If you want to talk, that is.”

Maybe he should just tell Wyll. It would take the power Astarion has over him away. He should just say it. But the words get stuck in his throat, and instead, he says something completely different: “I was thinking about my friend, Eilia.”

That seems to take Wyll by surprise. It takes him a moment to respond. “What about them?”

Why did he mention Eilia? What an idiot! “She, uh, she and I used to...date.”

Wyll chuckles. “I see. Do you miss her?”

“Well, yeah,” Glynren bends over and pulls a chunk of grass out of the ground. “But not like...not like that. I, uh, we don’t date anymore, but we’re still friends.”

The man nods, though he cocks a brow, studying Glynren. “Right. So what seems to be the problem? You’re wound up tight like a cat stuck in yarn.”

Maybe he could ease into telling him. Easier said than done. Gently, he tears a hole in one of the blades of grass. He then threads another blade into it. “There’s a reason we don’t date anymore.”

“I would imagine,” Wyll prompts. To his credit, he doesn’t pry more than that, but if the situation were reversed, Glynren would be dying to know. 

He could just end the conversation there, but how weird would he seem to Wyll if he did? As he continues weaving the grass together, he decides to do what he normally does when he’s nervous: blab. 

“She felt like I didn’t really like her in that way, and she was right. I didn’t. I mean, she was nice and we had been good friends for a while, so when she approached me about dating, I just thought it would make sense. But it never really did. It felt wrong. She could tell I wasn’t attracted to her. In fact, she somehow knew that I was…” oh gods “...more attracted to her brother.” 

Kill him, kill him now, end his life just let him die.

But Wyll nods, and he nods as if Glynren had just told him the sky was blue. “Did you ever tell her brother that?”

What? “No! No, that’s…” Glynren’s face heats up. “I couldn’t do that.”

“Why not?” Wyll looks genuinely confused. 

Why not? Why not?! “Because I’m the only son in my family.”

Wyll blinks dumbly at him. “So?”

How could Wyll not understand? Glynren almost rips the grass weaving from how flustered he is, but Wyll just looks at him like he’s speaking a different language. 

“So,” Glynren echoes, “I’m supposed to continue the family line, carry the family name. So on. I mean, my older sisters are married and have children, but they had to take on their husband’s names. Only I can do it.”

For a moment, Wyll does nothing but study Glynren’s face. The elf refuses to meet his eye, instead continuing with his weaving. “Is that what it’s like with elves?”

A sigh. “Some elves, yes. Not all. We don’t...reproduce as much as humans do, so procreating is considered very important.”

“Well,” Wyll grunts. “Don’t know much about elves, but I can tell you there’s nothing strange about finding another man attractive.”

What

Wyll continues with a chuckle. “There’s some nice looking blokes out there in the world. Would be a shame if only the ladies got their pick.”

What is happening? This couldn’t be happening. Glynren was expecting mockery or disgust. But instead he’s met with understanding and what could perhaps be considered agreement. Which meant...did Wylll also…?

Glynren might have gotten the courage to ask or to even tell Wyll how he felt. But a dainty yelp catches their attention. The two exchange looks before quickly scampering toward the sound. Peeking through the foliage, they spot Astarion and Sephrin not too far away. Wyll had led Glynren away from his sister, yet somehow they ended up near the lovebirds’ route. Glyn’s eyes fixate on Sephrin. His sister clings to the Vampire’s back, a playful gleam in her eyes as she talks. He watches as she hardly takes a breath between her words, fully engaged in a conversation with the elf carrying her. As she got older, Sephrin was about to speak with Glynren and their father with ease, but never had Glynren seen her talk with someone outside the family without looking or sounding completely terrified.

As the couple pass by, Glynren has to admit his sister seems happy. 

When the two are out of sight, Wyll faces Glyn, whose eyes linger on the trail his sister disappeared down. There is no “I told you so.” No ribbing or teasing. But when Glynren finally looks over at Wyll, the latter smiles and cocks a brow, which makes Glynren blush. Deep in his gut, he still knows his sister walks a perilous trail. Astarion might be sweet now, but that could change in an instant. She’s walking along that cliff, but maybe the view from up there is worth the risk. At any rate, Glynren would certainly feel like a monster if he were to rip Sephrin away from Astarion now. He hasn’t seen her that happy in quite some time. 

Wyll nudges him. “Come on,” he says, standing up. “They aren’t the only two who can enjoy a nice lakeside walk.” 

Dumbfounded, Glynren watches as Wyll starts off in the direction Sephrin and Astarion came from. He takes one more look down the path his sister took before scampering after Wyll. He’s not sure where this path is leading them, but he’s excited to follow it. 


End file.
